


chaos, confusion and wholly unworthy

by daring_elm



Category: Sanders Sides (Web Series)
Genre: Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Blood, Crying, Depression, Gen, Heavy Angst, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, Self-Hatred, Suicidal Thoughts, Suicide Attempt
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-05
Updated: 2021-01-05
Packaged: 2021-03-15 19:21:33
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,462
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28569174
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/daring_elm/pseuds/daring_elm
Summary: Achilles, Achilles, Achilles, come downWon't you get up off, get up off the roof?You're scaring us and all of us, some of us love youAchilles, it's not much but there's proofYou crazy-assed cosmonaut, remember your virtueRedemption lies plainly in truthJust humour us, Achilles, Achilles, come downWon't you get up off, get up off the roof?
Relationships: Anxiety | Virgil Sanders & Creativity | Roman "Princey" Sanders
Comments: 5
Kudos: 38





	chaos, confusion and wholly unworthy

**Author's Note:**

> i want to preface this by saying that i'm fine, no really
> 
> i had a lot of feelings at midnight or so and wrote this, enjoy, maybe

Roman took another step forward—the wind was cold, whipping around him like it was begging him to stay, to step back. The air bit his cheeks, turning them a bright rose, the last sign he was still alive. Breathing stung.

His hands were cold, cold and clenched around his phone. He had disabled the password earlier—he had no more secrets; what did it matter who saw? Maybe it was worth preserving a legacy after all.

Maybe.

Roman dialed Virgil's number—his fingers cramped, shook, refused to obey him. The frustration, a final warm spark, was extinguished by the cold, the eternal, endless cold. Not even to celebrate his death had he managed to shower, to put on clean clothes. Roman almost laughed at the thought that greasy hair against his forehead would be one of the last things he'd ever feel.

Somewhere, Roman had always known he would die like this—it suited him, his dramatic self. Dramatic. Loud. Attention-seeking.

Roman pressed his phone to his ear as it rang.

Maybe it would be less painful if Virgil didn't pick up. Maybe Virgil would try to talk him out of this. Maybe that was why Roman was doing it.

What would it feel like? Roman's vision of Icarus, flying towards the sun, the light, the overwhelming warmth, couldn't have been further from the truth. He would fall. Fall, surrounded by cold, land harshly—there was no ocean to swallow him. He didn't deserve that mercy.

He had been drowning for years anyway.

"Hey, what's up?" Virgil said—his voice was rough with sleep. Roman hadn't expected him to be asleep this early. He didn't know Virgil anymore—had he ever, really? He had, when they were kids. It had been easier back then. It had been easier, but even then Roman hadn't done anything right. He should never have dropped out.

It wasn't worth it.

"I wanted to say goodbye." Hot tears stung in Roman's eyes, their warmth fading as they rolled down his cheeks. The tremor in his voice exhausted him. Virgil had heard him vulnerable so often and ignored him every time; what did one more matter?

What did it matter? Wind brushed around Roman's ankles, pressing him forward. His fingers were bright red—his body's last effort to keep him alive. Why bother? He was going to waste his own effort anyway.

How long would it take until someone found him? A minute, an hour, a day? No longer than a week, for sure. It would be poetic, maybe, lying on the cold sidewalk, blood pooling around him. Gruesome, maybe, but poetic.

"No," Virgil said warily. "Roman, what's going on?"

Roman had felt numb for so long, the tears were a release. An ocean of his own crafting. "I—" he started. His voice betrayed him, stopped working, leaving him mouthing the words without sound leaving his freezing lips. He clenched his jaw to keep his teeth from chattering. "I just have to go. Promise me you won't be sad, okay?"

He took another step towards the ledge—it was so _high_ , high enough to make his stomach drop. He had always been a coward.

"No, I can't—I'm coming over; stay where you are." Virgil sounded panicked, rushed. Worried. About him.

"No, it's okay!" Roman could have laughed—Virgil was _worried_ about him. He hadn't remembered Virgil to be this stupid.

"Where are you?"

"At home." The wind howled around him. Roman took off his coat—the cold air stung and burned in the fresh cuts on his wrist. Someone else would need the coat more than he did. He didn't deserve the warmth it gave him.

"Where are you _exactly_?"

Roman exhaled into the cold air—his breath formed a little cloud, then evaporated. He would be gone so quickly. It might not even hurt. "On the roof." Virgil had gotten his fair share of dishonesty; the last thing Roman wanted to do was contribute to it.

Though, strangely, as figures of speech tended to be, it _would_ be the last thing he did.

Virgil hesitated. A car engine started in the background of the call. "Okay, just—take a step back, okay? Towards the—stairs, or elevator, or ladder or whatever."

Roman laughed—it was a strange sound, hollow and dull. Virgil was coming here. To _rescue_ him. How didn't he see that it was pointless? What did it matter? He was only making it harder on himself.

"Did you do it?"

"No."

"Please, Roman, _Princey_ , for me." Virgil's voice was choked—there was something strange, something impossible about hearing Virgil cry for him. "Please, just a step away."

"Fine." Roman stepped back.

"Okay, now stay there, please, Princey, stay." Virgil made an odd noise, as if he was trying to choke back a cough or a sob and only half succeeding. "I'm almost there. I'm almost there; it's gonna be okay."

Virgil was speaking to himself more than him, Roman figured. It made sense somewhere. Roman was fine—he felt just as numb as ever; he wasn't good enough to give Virgil any support, so Virgil had to do it himself. Roman huffed and watched the cloud vanish.

"Princey, I love you—hang on for me."

Tears budded in the corners of Roman's eyes again—he didn't bother wiping them away, letting them trail down his cheeks and drip off his jaw. He sniffed.

"I'm almost there, Ro, just hang on."

Roman was silent.

"Princey? Are you still there?"

Roman hummed.

"Good—good, I'm proud of you." Distant headlights sped past—the street was so far away, blurred and tiny. Roman could have reached out and touched it.

"I'm here now; I'm coming up. Can you—" Virgil sobbed. "Tell me a story? Please? Just until I'm there; I need to know you're still with me; tell me a story."

"I don't know any."

"No, you know one; of _course_ you do—any story, _please_." A door slammed shut; keys jingled. "Tell me about—about Snow White."

Roman took a freezing breath. His lips felt numb. "Once upon a time, there was a queen."

"Good, thank you." Keys jingled again. "You're doing great, Ro; keep going."

"More than anything, she wanted a child. One day, while sewing, she pricked her finger with the needle."

A door shut loudly. Footsteps drummed over a wooden floor. Maybe Roman wouldn't have to jump—he'd freeze to death instead.

"A drop of blood fell into the snow. Seeing this, the queen wished for a child with skin white as snow, lips red as blood and hair black as ebony."

Roman sat down—the roof was cold, sapping the last bit of body heat he had left. He wasn't sure he would be able to leave when Virgil came to get him.

"Still there?" Virgil forced out—he was breathing heavily, the keys muffled.

"I can't do this."

"You're doing great—" Virgil's voice was choked again, now through shortness of breath—Virgil was _running_ to see him. "Please, hang on; I'll be right there."

Roman stood. What did it matter? What difference did he make? What difference did any of this make?

He never should have called.

The door to the roof burst open and Virgil stumbled out—the _relief_ in his eyes when he saw Roman there, greasy, gross, spattered with blood and half-frozen, finally let Roman _break_.

His phone fell from his hands and bounced miserably on the concrete as Roman crumpled, sobbing, _bawling_ —Virgil ran towards him; hugged him so tight Roman didn't need his knees to hold him up anymore. Roman sobbed into Virgil's hoodie (getting snot all over it, gross) and Virgil just rubbed his back, holding him close, silently crying along. Roman cried so hard he thought he might throw up and then more, letting loose a flood of tears he had been bottling up for too long. His hands grabbed onto Virgil's hoodie like a lifebelt from a sinking ship—he dug his fingers in, holding on as tight as he could, slowly feeling real again.

Virgil laughed. Virgil laughed, tears still streaming down his face, still holding Roman like he might dissolve if Virgil loosened his grip for a second. "You scared the _shit_ out me."

Roman laughed wetly.

"Don't _ever_ do that again." Virgil shook his head. "Can we go back inside? I'll take you to my place."

Roman thought for a moment. "Okay."

Virgil nodded. "Okay. It's all okay."

"Hmm." Roman's grip loosened slowly—he was exhausted, but in a less empty way. This meant something; there was no other explanation for this feeling, this satisfied tiredness. "Virgil?"

Virgil hummed curiously.

"Thank you. For saving me."

Virgil shook his head. "I'd be a mess without you—you deserve the rescue."

**Author's Note:**

> comments are appreciated :)


End file.
